L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon – Tokyo
The A Life Worth Eating
Perspective (Adam)
29 December 2007
Once I learned that L’Atelier Tokyo was the original,
my suspicions of Japanese influence on the concept of this
restaurant were officially confirmed. At first I wondered if the
preparations would be adopted to better match the Japanese palate;
but, then I realized that here in Tokyo, these dishes were at home.
With its floor to ceiling windows and bright workshop lighting
passing over the second floor of the shiny new Roppongi Hills
shopping center, L’Atelier glows as a culinary oasis beckoning
hungry mall diners to venture in. Unfortunately, reservations are
required. But fortunately, L’Atelier has an adjacent bakery where
disheartened customers without reservations can take home macarons,
french breads, confiture, and a newly found smile. At least that’s
what I did my first time. But fortune favors the persistent, and the
following Christmas I returned with a reservation. While many of the
dishes I had already sampled, I was glad that I waited.
I expected to be seated amongst other foreigners as I
was in Paris; but surprisingly, in all the times I’ve eaten here,
I’ve never heard any language spoken other than Japanese. There are
a handful of hightop tables adjacent to the bar, all of which seem
to be second choice to a front-row seat at the counter, where diners
get a first-hand view of the intricate plating each dish involves.
Many of the dishes were similar to New York and Paris; but there
were a handful of new dishes, all of which I was determined to try.
  
Service started with shavings of cured ham, the
source of which was hanging above Paris’s counter but hidden here in
Tokyo. Bridging the gap between source and plate is not nearly so
important here as it is in Paris; more important is refinement, and
hanging pigs in a gourmet restaurant would materialize as crude and
uncivilized. But after a few bites, my mind stopped thinking about
Japanese cultural nuances and focused on the smoky and salty strips
of dried meat that nicely brought out the sweetness of of my
Chablis. I do think that salty is the way to begin any meal, as
sweet too early can prevent the sweet subtleties of savory courses
from naturally progressing.
Next came an individual basket of bread, a collection
of five different rolls, the freshness of which was startling. Even
the miniature baguette, an item whose freshness quickly deteriorates
after baking, was rife with moisture. It was a little excessive to
give me a basket of ten rolls, particularly because I ate all of
them. But no worries; there was still plenty of room left for the
evening.
The amuse bouche was a shot glass filled with a red
pepper velouté topped with a tomato foam. I didn’t care much
for this: I found the texture repetitious and unchanging, with the
flavor of cooked red pepper, something I despise, dominating every
bite. It was interesting how the red pepper’s sweetness was
synchronized with that of the tomato’s without any acidity; but
ultimately, this was a flavor I just didn’t like.
  
My first dish ever at L’Atelier Tokyo was Le
Haricot Coco en fin velouté au fumet de truffe et lard fumé, a
bright white bean velouté with smoked lardons and shaved black
truffle. Though perhaps a bit crude, the smokiness of pig fat with
the earthy aroma of black truffle is a beautiful combination for the
nose, one that is both complex and soul-satisfying at the same time.
The texture of this soup was creamy with a slight grain from the
beans, with the light foamy layer floating on the top acting as a
link between the velvety soup and the weightless truffles hovering
on top. The foam also kept the texture of the truffles as it held
them above the broth, preventing them from going soft. The taste of
this dish was the weakest part, though, as the velouté tasted more
like milk than anything else — it was undersalted and underflavored.
Too bad; this had potential.
Another dish I didn’t particularly like was Le
filet de boeuf granité avec une pomme purée truffée, which
essentially is a fancy name for beef surrounded by soggy
breadcrumbs. The texture of this couldn’t help but remind me of
fried and breaded beef. It was not a pretty thought. There was no
textural coherency between the granité and the steak, and with a
swipe of the fork, I was able to scrape off all the offending
topping. The breadcrumbs were also astoundingly salty, making this
steak really unenjoyable. The truffled potatoes, however, were
outstanding as always, the earthy flavor of the truffle adding an
earthy fragrance to an ingredient that normally lacks much scent.
The potatoes stole the show for this dish, and my plate was sent
back rather lopsided.
The last dish of those I did not like was Le
Saint-Pierre cuit à la marinière aux fines herbes, something I
disliked in Paris as well but was curious how different it would
taste here. Of all the dishes that varied between L’Atelier
locations, this was one that did not. It was nearly identical to le
saint-pierre in Paris, and it was equally disappointing.
  
Now that those three dishes are out of the way, the
rest of the dishes were very impressive. Le
thon onctueux et épice d’un velouté de brocolis was
new; I hadn’t seen it on the menu in Paris or New York. This dish
had a surprisingly interesting texture, with the bottom of the glass
containing a light and airy tuna purée, supporting an even lighter
broccoli velouté. These two layers were garnished with smoked tuna
and small heads of broccoli. The dish was certainly balanced
texturally, but regarding flavor, it seemed a little one-sided:
fishy. The salty fish flavor dominated the broccoli, as if I were
eating vegetables out of a bowl previously used for a fish course.
Though, as I looked around the counter, I saw other diners enjoying
this dish, making me wonder if this savory fishy dish was created
particularly for the Japanese palate. While it worked here, I’m not
sure it would have done well elsewhere, perhaps explaining why it
was only on the Tokyo menu.
As for the next dish, Le
Foie Gras de Canard sauté aux figues et une glace verjuté, this
dish was nothing short of beautiful. I certainly know what I think
when I see fig and foie gras on the menu: boring. But note that
there was no fig compote or other variant of fig, just the pure
fruit sautéed so as to preserve their original texture, adding a
chewy contrast to the buttery foie. The figs were much more savory
than I had expected: no additional sugar was added. This indicated a
clear desire to keep the flavors as close to nature as possible,
something which worked nicely to differentiate this dish from other
fig and foie variants. Ironically, this dish’s originality came from
its connection to nature. Delicious.
Citrus, particularly grapefruit, and meat is a
combination I pretty much never enjoy. I find that the cutting
acidity of the fruit sidetracks my palate from the comforting
saltiness of the steak. I ordered Le
Canard Challandais rôti avec des endives glacées aux sucs d’orange mainly
because it was a new item for me; but, also because I was curious to
see how chef Robuchon saw these two ingredients working together.
Frankly, I started laughing to myself while eating this — the
hilarity of how well these three ingredients: the bitter endive, the
acidic orange, and the savory steak worked together. It was like a
high school chemistry experiment: the endive with orange was too
bitter by itself; but somehow, when mixed with the steak, the
bitterness became undetectable and, in fact, highlighted the latent
sweetness embedded in the rare duck. Not only was this delicious, it
was fascinating! I’m pretty sure this can be explained
scientifically; but for me, it was magic.
  
Next came my five favorite words: “a gift from the
kitchen.” And a special gift it was; normally this was a full course
on the menu: La
Langoustine en papillote croustillante au basilic, L’Atelier’s
version of langoustine tempura. I wondered if La Langoustine would
change as, after all, this tempura-like dish was to be served to
some tough critics. But confidently, this Robuchon special was
identical to that served at the other locations, a testament to this
dish’s universal tastiness. The first thing that struck me was the
lack of oil in the langoustine’s brik pastry crust. Most of the
moisture came from the succulence of the moist crustacean. While the
tail was removed from the shell a new dough-based crust was given,
adding a delicate crunch that also helped to lock in humidity.
Although not technically tempura, this could easily compete against
langoustine tempura found in the most famous of Tokyo’s tempura
houses. Delicious.
Another new dish was Le
Paillard de Volaille relevé de citron et tomates confites avec des
artichauts à la plancha, a thin slice of grilled chicken breast
covered with artichoke, sun dried tomatoes, rocket, parmesan
shavings, and black truffle shavings. While there was nothing
particularly bad about this dish — except perhaps that the chicken
was dry — there was nothing special either. Why was this dish even
on the menu? This seemed almost like spa cuisine. The truffle
shavings were frankly uncalled for; I couldn’t even taste or smell
them. Sitting on top this chicken breast was a giant nest of
superfluous ingredients, all of which seemed to tangle together so
that I could brush it off to the side, eat the chicken, parmesan,
and truffle, and cut my losses.
La Saint-Jacques au beurre d’algues acidulés was
something that I didn’t enjoy in New York, but enjoyed more here.
Unlike in New York, this rendition served two scallops instead of
one, and with about two-thirds less butter. This was no butter bath,
so to speak. The scallops were also slightly undercooked, something
essential, so that the texture remained soft and absorbant rather
than firm and chewy. The spicing seemed a bit arbitrary; but this
dish was so driven by the flavor of the natural ingredients, so long
as the textures weren’t off, it’s hard for this not to be enjoyable.
  
By this point, my sister was in awe at the quantity
of food I ate. “I’ve never seen someone eat like this,” she
exclaimed. Thankfully Aaron wasn’t with us this night … she might
have passed out. But responsibly sensing a hint of fullness, I
ordered three additional courses that were slightly lighter. I
started with the well-known L’Oursin
dans une délicate gelée recouverte d’une onctueuse crème de
chou-fleur, a martini glass filled with a sea urchin gelée and
covered with a cauliflower crème. The cauliflower crème was bordered
with equally sized and perfectly round dots of basil oil. I ate this
dish while watching the basil oil being set, drop by drop, under the
spotlight in front of me feeling slightly guilty that it took me
only a few bites to undo all the pain-staking minutes that went into
making all these drops perfectly sized and aligned. But while the
presentation was highly styled and certainly artistic, the flavor
was simple and fresh, the cool gelée encapsulating the oceanic
flavor of the urchin and the crème preventing that flavor from
tasting hollow. The urchin was firm and held its shape, despite
being in a gelée, a clear indication of its freshness. But while the
urchin was firm, the dish overall was texturally monotonous —
everything was soft. A slight crunch, as nori typically has when uni
sushi is served, would have gone a long way. Nevertheless, this was
very flavorful.
Next was a dish I’d enjoyed in New York, and was
happy to find that it was delicious here as well. La
Caille au foie gras caramélisée avec une pomme purée truffée is
two pieces of caramelized squab with Robuchon mashed potatoes topped
with black truffle shavings. Aside from the incredibly tasty
potatoes, which is essentially butter with essence of potato, the
squab held its own very nicely. The lightly caramelized skin gave a
honey flavor to the succulent meat which seemed to go really nicely
with the more salty potatoes. This sensation was heightened by the
aroma of truffle. What a nice dish.
Noticing that my sister had stopped eating over an
hour ago, I declined another look at the menu and decided this would
be my last course … well, savory course. Next came Le
Homard rôti puis accompagné d’une fricassée de champignons au vin
jaune d’Arbois, half a roasted lobster with a wild mushroom
fricassée. Delicious; but, boring. The stringy texture of the dry
roasted lobster soaked up the yellow wine into its small crevasses,
making each salty bite slightly sweeter. Something about this dish
seemed a little sloppy to me — perhaps the fact that there were
three different sauces mixing, but not complimenting, each other. I
appreciated this dish as I love lobster; but ultimately, this is not
something I would order again.
  
Time to cleanse my palate, or to warm up for dessert,
depending on your point of view. I was handed a small shot glass
with raspberries and blueberries suspended in a lime gelée and
topped with a lime and basil ice cream. I really like basil when
it’s turned sweet: it has a fresh flavor not too far off from mint.
The acidity of the lime was a little too strong, however, making my
tongue cringe in bitterness preventing it from feeling refreshed
from the basil.
My first dessert was a Pomme
en feuillantine croustillante avec une glace d’une pomme au four,
several thin layers of pastry sandwiching poached apple and crème
fraîche, with a side of apple ice cream accented with dried apple
chips. This dessert was wonderful. The sweetness of the apple was
tempered by hints of salt and the milky crème. It was texturally
balanced as well, as each bite of soft apple, crème, or ice cream,
had crispy pastry and dried slices of apple. The apple inside the
pastry layers was also lukewarm, and as we all know, warm apple and
ice cream is quite delicious. Mmm.
But last of the desserts was also my favorite, an
updated rendition of my favorite dessert Le
Sucre, which for some reason has been taken off all the
L’Atelier menus. This dessert was Les
Fruits Rouges en soupe avec une gelée de framboise et une fin tube
de glace mascarpone, a thin crispy sugar cylinder filled with
mascarpone ice cream, served on a bed of strawberries and red
currants with a raspberry gelée. With the first crack of the tube,
tiny crispy bits of sugar were released into the soft ice cream,
making this dish not only beautiful and delicious; but balanced as
well. The natural sweetness of the fruit was brought out by the
slightly sweet gelée, yet made more rich and subtle by the
creaminess from the mascarpone ice cream. Very delicious.
  
I was happy to see that the Tokyo
branch of my favorite international restaurant brand had remained
impressive from location to location. Though this may have been the
original location, it seems like most of the inventive dishes were
still happening in Paris and from there, trickling their way onto
the international menus. Yet the consistently delicious fare at
L’Atelier knows no geographical bounds — one can expect a
well-executed meal at any location worldwide. I look forward to
returning the next time I’m in Tokyo since it seems like the handful
of dishes that make this location unique are
original and, from my experience, certainly worth trying.
© 2007 A Life Worth eating. Used by permission. All rights
reserved. "A Life Worth Eating : New York Perspectives on
International Cuisine" www.alifewortheating.com
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